The Santas Who Stole Me (Stolen #1)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

GEORGIE

Lying flat on my back, darkness wants to swallow me up. I keep blinking my eyes, but nothing is changing. A sliver of light slips from under the door. My head is pounding and I crawl to it on all fours. My body aches from where he hit me. I have to get out of here. He’s fucking insane, and he’s going to kill me. I move slowly and pull myself up, trying to turn the door handle. When I do, to my surprise, it opens. Using all my energy I pull myself up and step out. My foot searches for the floor, but there is no foundation. I fall, down and down. His laughter echoes as I twist and turn, looking for anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing, and the ground is in view now, edging closer. It was another trick; I thought I got away. He left the door open knowing I would fall. His words fill my head. “Worthless, no good, bitch.” I scream to stop hearing them. Then I stop falling. I look down to see what caught me. It’s his hand holding me by the neck. He squeezes, and I flail my arms, trying to get away, my screams cut off by his hand. In the end I know it’s useless; he’s always going to win.

I wake up with a gasp. A woman is screaming, the sound consuming me. I move to cover my ears, but hands wrap around my wrists to stop me.

No, no, no. He found me. My eyes snap open when I hear, “Georgie, look at me.” The voice is different and I see blue eyes staring at me, but they suddenly change to brown. I back away, not knowing where I am. He pushes hair back from my face, swiping the sweat with it that chills my skin. I lean over next to him and vomit on the floor not far from where I was sleeping. Did I pass out? One of the men holds my hair back. The contents of my stomach spill and spill. When I stop, I’m able to figure out where I am again.

“It’s okay, I’m going to take you upstairs to clean up and lie down.”

I don’t know who said that or who is talking. I don’t say anything and wring my hands together, noticing my cuffs are off. I try to focus on my breathing and steady my heartbeat, wishing I didn’t look so pathetic.

Strong arms pick me up, one arm under my legs and the other wrapped around my back, the other two guys watching. His body is warm against my sickly cold skin. Cinnamon and another spice I can’t recall flood my nostrils. Footsteps follow us up the stairs and down the hall. The rational part of my brain is telling me now is my time to run and get out of here. Between my panic attack and the night terror, I have nothing left. I’m straining to hold my neck up. Eventually, I give in and put my ear on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

He’s talking to me in a low voice, calming despite being unable to register any of his words. We walk into the bathroom to the faint sound of a shower and the guys’ murmurs. Someone stands me up and my legs buckle, but I don’t fall to the floor. Instead, they shuffle me around, pulling my dress over my head, and my shoes are already off somehow. He pulls off his shirt and steps in the shower, holding me up. Warm water falls against my skin, my bra and panties still on. My feet touch the floor and relief grounds me. I’m not falling anymore but I’m still not present. It’s like I’m floating while watching everything unfold. The fear begins to subside, and my heart is slowing while behind me one of the guys rubs shampoo in my hair. I keep quiet and unmoving and lean into them. My mind is fuzzy, and their whispered words sound like they are saying them from above the water I’m stuck under.

“Georgie, come back to us.”

I recognize that voice. It’s from the Santa who stole me. I can focus on Keeper’s face now, and he shuts the shower off and carries me out, where my feet touch the bathroom floor.

Zeke wraps me in a towel before quickly peeling away my underwear and bra and shoving a shirt over my head. He tried not to look.

Keeper hands me a toothbrush and toothpaste. I shove it in my mouth, trying to replace the taste. When I spit in the sink he scoops me up, and I give him a grateful smile. I’m carried into the connecting room with a big bed with white bedding and placed down.

I avoid their stares, not sure if I need to explain what just happened, and the exhaustion takes over and I stay quiet. Once my head hits the pillow, all I want is for sleep to engulf me and take over. Maybe forever.

One of them crouches in front of my face, and I blink a few times to focus. It’s Zeke. “I’ll make it better,” he says and kisses my hair at the top of my head, pulling a blanket over me before he leaves.

Calum is there next. “Get some rest, cookie, tomorrow we start fighting. You’re so fucking strong. Keeper will stay with you. He’s best at this kind of thing, and he won rock, paper, scissors, best two out of three. When you wake up, I’ll show you another way to feel safe.” He kisses my lips, soft and purposeful, not taking it further.

My eyelids are so heavy I can’t focus on his lips. I’ll obsess over them in the morning. The bed dips as Keeper lies down next to me, and I’m too tired to protest. I have no idea if I can trust them or why they want to help me, but it honestly feels good to have someone next to me after the last year of loneliness and fear. I’m able to slip into sleep, and I don’t stir until the morning.